


dive right in

by ladymars



Series: MI6 Cafe Prompt Fills [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Budding Love, Community: MI6 Cafe | mi6_cafe, F/F, MI6 cafe prompt fills, betting pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25121344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymars/pseuds/ladymars
Summary: Ten for this month.A hundred for M's birthday party.Five for "they're already together, they just never told anyone".
Relationships: Eve Moneypenny/R, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: MI6 Cafe Prompt Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819753
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: MI6 Cafe Collections, Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	dive right in

**Author's Note:**

> Theme: Moneypenny Monday
> 
> MI6 Cafe Prompt Fill  
> List: 007 Fest 2017 Prompts  
> Prompt: Everyone thinks it's Eve running the betting pools, but it's actually [someone else].

The first one is one of the boffins, one with multiple PhDs in engineering, on her way to a meeting with M. She pauses for a second at her desk, drops a note, and mutters under her breath, “Fifty pounds on the Christmas party.”

Eve is bewildered, but slyly slides the note into a drawer, her espionage instincts still intact. Is this a code? A trigger? She waits expectantly but once the meeting is over, the doctor doesn’t give her an additional signal or any context as to why she slipped her a note like that.

The next time it’s 002, while they’re out having too many drinks. 002 is always physical, in a way she’s very used to, so he pulled her close at the dance floor by the waist, chest to chest, she’s not surprised at all. She is surprised when he drops a note at the breast pocket of the office blouse she never changed out of. “I bet it’s New Year’s,” he yells into her ear over the music. “Crazy shit always happens in New Year’s Eve, right?” She’s too drunk to care and only remembers the note when she’s dropping her sweat and booze-covered blouse in the washer the next day in a hungover haze.

It keeps trickling in. There’s no consistency to who slips her a note or two. Lab coats from Q Branch, Double-O agents, civilian office workers. She never spends the money. It’s not hers, after all. She just keeps it all tucked away in a locked drawer at her desk, with meticulous notes of who gave her the cash (or at least a general description, since she doesn’t know half of these people) and whatever coded message they give her. Those are either times (in a month, before December, this time next year, tonight) or places (M’s office, Q’s lair, Caracas, Belfast, the whole of Russia, the popular café a few blocks from Headquarters) but with no pattern to them. Hell, M drops her a hundred for “this weekend”, and when she asks him what’s going on, he just laughs and tells her, “You know what it’s for, Moneypenny. You don’t have to be coy with me.”

Eve is surprised to find R at her desk not long after this started, as she doesn’t have a meeting scheduled with M. R is short and stout, but she possesses an intimidating aura. She must, as the head of the research department, where most people tower over her in stature and/or degrees. And by that scowl, she’s using that aura to its maximum potential on Eve.

“I heard you’ve been dipping into my pool,” she drawls, hands on he hips as she eyes Eve up and down.

Eve just blinks. “I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”

R groans and throws her hands up. “Oh, you know! _The_ pool! I always run the pools!”

Eve stares, hoping for more enlightenment.

Now it seems that it dawns on R that Eve actually does not know what the hell she is talking about, her face slacking at the realization. “You really don’t know? About my betting pools?”

Eve shakes her head because she really does not know.

“Huh,” R hums, resting a hand on her cheek. “But Dr. Evans told me that she gave you a fifty.”

“She did,” Eve says, “I don’t know why though. I did keep it, with all the others. Look.” She figures that R knows enough about this nonsense that it wouldn’t hurt to show her. She unlocks the drawer and pulls out the metal box containing the cash and all her notes.

R lets out a low whistle. “You’ve got this down to a science.”

“Now that I know that this is for a bet,” Eve says as she tucks away the box. She never liked having it out for long. “Could you tell me what it’s for?”

R’s lip twitches up in a smile and instead of telling her outright, she leans in to whisper it into her ear. She smells like roses.

Eve gasps and then lets out a laugh. “What? Shut up! Really?”

“Yes!” R is gleeful, grinning like a schoolgirl.

“Wow! God… I can see why people thought I was running the betting pool, since I’m close to Bond.” Eve has to let out a laugh but then cuts herself off short. “Oh no, I feel kind of bad now...”

“For taking the money?”

“No, for…” Eve pauses for a moment but then decides to her. It does affect her little betting pool. “They’ve been together for at least three years now. Basically since they met. They just… don’t tell people.”

R furrows her brow and frowns deeply, disturbed. “No, what? That can’t be… Sure, they’re cozy, but not _dating for three years_ cozy.”

“You really didn’t know?” Eve asks through a laugh. “Well, I guess I’m used to it because all Bond does when we share a bottle of wine is gush about his man…”

R is now chuckling herself. “Not a clue! I had no idea!”

Eve grins. Laughing with R about this whole ridiculous thing had felt nice. “At least I’m not the only one without a clue, I suppose. Now we’re even.”

“Damn…” R sighs, hands on her hips as she pauses to think. “What’re we gonna do with the money now?”

Eve shrugs because she’d only just learned that she’d part of a betting scheme. “You’re the betting pool master here, apparently. I’ve only just realized what’s going on.”

“But you’re an amazing accountant!” R points out, gesturing at the drawer now safely containing the money. “Don’t tell me you don’t like this gig.”

Eve glances at the drawer and gives her a half shrug. The mystery had been fun, in a nonthreatening yet stimulating way. And she’s always been good at organizing and sorting through things like this. “I suppose I can help… Keep the money safe while we decide to return it.”

R grins again, that wide and lopsided one from earlier. “There might not be a need. I’ll figure something out. Some other pair we can start a betting pool over.” Something flickers in her eyes, and one side of her lips quirked up in a coy smirk. “We can discuss it over drinks. Friday?”

Eve’s heart leaps. Then she smirks. Another mystery for her. Well, not much of a mystery, if she might be in on this one. “You’re on.”


End file.
